


reach out and touch faith

by Sia Doll (satisfactuality)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Healing Sex, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Sort of? - Freeform, everyone messed up in s2 and no one is off the hook for it, nancy figures some shit out, takes place a year after s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 09:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13408281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satisfactuality/pseuds/Sia%20Doll
Summary: it's burning; the flannel sheets sticking to her back, the weed scorching through her lungs and how the gritty guitar in the record playing settles under her ribs and bleeds into her. it all makes her feel, simultaneously, wanted and remade and dirty in a way she never knew she would want to feel.





	reach out and touch faith

**Author's Note:**

> i've always related to nancy, and i originally just meant for this to be porn and then my own internal monologue got mixed up and now we have this. what can you do?

it's the first warm day of spring. no breeze, just relentless sunlight streaming down over hawkins, and no one's quite prepared for the change no matter how welcome it is. steve's pool naturally has become the gathering spot, although the water is just on the edge of too cold. or maybe it's the lingering chill of winter that never seems to go away no matter how warm she is. that seems more likely for nancy, at least. she hasn't been able to move from her spot in the pool chair since she arrived. it's been three years and the tile edging of the pool still feels like a barrier she can't bare to cross. like if she does sink below the surface of the clear water, she'll keep sinking and never come back up. like the water will drag her straight down into hell like it did to barb.

the sunlight feels like it’s sinking into her skin, and maybe it should feel good but it just leaves her feeling energized with no outlet. she's up and inside the house before she realizes it. everything is _too much_. there's a soft touch on her arm and when nancy opens her eyes (and when had she closed them, she can't remember) jonathan is standing hesitantly in front of her, steve a few feet behind him. jonathan takes a step back once he has her attention, giving her space ( _i just need space, i'm sorry, i can't do this right now_ ) and she looks at both of them and misses them so much it aches. and it aches because she's the one that pushed them away. that left jonathan behind for steve and turned steve away for jonathan and that crushed both of them as soon as they got too close. its her that has some part of her that's rotten and broken and ruins everything she touches.

"can i take a shower? i want to get the chlorine off me," she says, when she realizes they're both waiting for her to speak. she hasn't been in the pool, and they all know it, but neither of them calls her on it.

"yeah, yeah. i can get you some clothes?" steve offers ( _come on, let’s get you into some dry clothes,_ she hears) and the hesitation in his eyes makes that part of her that misses them tighten unbearably. she nods instead of answering, the words choked up in her throat.

 

she turns the water up as hot as it will go, and watches as the steam fogs over the mirror and blurs her reflection. when nancy steps under the water, it feels like a penance. every drop burns, leaves her skin red, burns like a punishment. she’s been punishing herself for so long that she just keeps adding to the list. the water doesn't feel like its washing away her sins, just bringing them to the surface and she's so tired suddenly of all of it. she stands there, letting the heat blister against her skin, until the water runs cold, and then she stands some more.

nancy's shivering by the time she steps out, but it feels like something has cracked inside her, let the heat seep in and linger under her skin. she puts on the clothes steve left her. Her hair drips, soaks through the neckline of steve’s shirt and down her back. the mirror’s too foggy to see her reflection clearly, so she turns away.

 

if the pool is hell, steve’s bedroom feels like hallowed ground. she knocks softly before pushing the door open, and while part of her is surprised to see both of them there, another part of her feels settled. the room is warm, lit by the lamp on steve’s bedside table but with the sunset streaking in through the window, lines of yellow and orange and red painted across the room. there's a record playing, something rocky and hard that she doesn't expect from steve, but quietly. intimately. 

“hey. you okay? you were in there a while?” steve’s halfway up off the bed, and she wonders how much of it is that instinct that always drove him to try and make things better by holding her. like his hands could somehow fix her just by touching. (she use to wonder if maybe they could).

“i’m fine" she says, and turns her attention to jonathan. his eyes are on her, but it's his hands that draw her attention. five little white papers are rolled up neatly in front of him, his long, pretty fingers in the process of rolling a sixth. "were you guys going to smoke?"

"steve wanted me to roll his stuff for him," there's a pause as jonathan wets the edge of the paper, just a flash of tongue that sparks something she hasn't let herself feel in a while. "but yeah, we were. we don't have to, if you don't want to." his fingers finish rolling the joint. he sets it down next to the others, the scar on his palm visible for a half-second and the spark inside her grows. 

"no" she wonders if he's thinking of the last time he got her high, when she got too wrapped up in her own head and ended up vomiting off the side of his porch while he held her hair back. "no, you should if you want to." other words get caught in her chest ('steve's stuff, huh? didn't think deputies were supposed to have drugs on them') and she knows they would have teased back but then moment hangs too long. for the second time that night, she misses them. misses the easy back and forth, different with both of them but always so comfortable.

she sits tentatively on the edge of the bed, tucks her bare legs up to her chest, and watches steve unearth a lighter from somewhere. the flame flickers for a moment before he touches it to the end of the joint. she feels entranced. she watches them pass it back and forth a few times, watches them grow lax and lazy with it, before reaching out to take it the next time jonathan goes to pass it to steve. the first hit takes her by surprise, it's been so long that she forgot the way it burns. her eyes close and her head tips back, trying to hold the smoke before exhaling gently the way jonathan taught her. the lighter snicks on again while her eyes are still closed and when she opens them, they've lit a second joint. it goes on like that for a while, her head getting hazier and her body getting heavier until she's laying back, head near jonathan's lap. steve takes the joint out of her hand before it burns her fingers, snuffing it out along with his and jonathan's in the little ash tray next to his bed before lighting up a third.

 

it's burning; the flannel sheets sticking to her back, the weed scorching through her lungs and how the gritty guitar in the record playing settles under her ribs and bleeds into her. it makes her feel, simultaneously, wanted and remade and dirty in a way she never knew she would want to feel. it's all too much and too little and she needs but the words to ask for it aren't there so the next time jonathan passes the joint she grabs his hand and pulls it down against her face. she thinks she can feel the scar across his palm like a brand on her cheek. 

jonathan's hands shift her until her head is lying in his lap, and her mind is scrambled from the weed but she can't understand why he wants to touch her or why she's letting him when the only thing she wants is to keep this moment whole and untainted and she can't do that if she gets too close. jonathan's fingers are swiping gently at her face and steve's crawling up the bed looking and concerned and-

 

she's crying.

 

she realizes it abruptly, that tears are streaking down her cheeks and she can't stop and doesn't know why this is happening. nothing about her body feels like it's under her control.

"i'm so sorry," the words fall without her consent but she means them. she's messed this all up from the beginning and she ruined them. she ruined  _this_. because she couldn't make up her mind and love one of them but she can't let either of them go. and it's all her fault, it's all been her fault since that first night with barb, because she killed barb and she blamed steve but oh god it was her and she-

steve's hand is warm against her face, and she forgot how well they fit together (it's a lie, she never forgot but she tried so hard to). he doesn't kiss her and she's glad for it, but his face is so soft and sad it hurts. his thumb swipes a tear off as her mouth clicks shut, and she said all of that out loud, didn't she?

"it's okay, nance. you're okay," he's so sincere she wants to hit him, and she hates that somewhere along the way she decide him caring made her angry. she forces out a breath through clenched teeth, makes herself stand down and it's heartbreaking how his expression get just the tiniest bit happier when she does. "what do you need from us?"

what does she need? she needs them to be mad, to be mad at her for once instead of themselves or each other. she needs them to kick her out, to finally see how fucked up she is and leave her behind. she needs- she thinks of the guitar riffs, the heat of the room, the way jonathan's fingers deftly rolled the joint, steve's stupid, lovely hair curling still damp on his forehead and she just  _needs_.

steve's eyes are searching and jonathan's are too when she tilts her head up to look at him. she can feel jonathan's stomach contract with each breath and steve's sweatpants against her legs and when she looks back at steve, she knows. 

 

if before was burning, this is walking on the sun. everything is bright, like the sunlight and the heat have mixed together and lit her from the inside. jonathan is solid behind her, one hand splayed against her ribs where steve's t-shirt is rucked up. steve's shoulders flex under her thighs, the muscles in his back gleaming in the low lamplight. she can't tell how long they've been at this, but as steve's mouth drags over her clit again she's reminded of the two times she's already come. or maybe it's three, she's so sensitive it's hard to tell.

"he really likes this, doesn't he?" jonathan's voice sounds amazed, soft and disbelieving almost. nancy tips her head, nosing at his throat. he smells like chlorine and smoke and boy, and for a moment, she imagines she can feel his pulse under his thin skin. she covers the hand on her ribs with her own, moves it down until it's threaded through steve's hair. she doesn't think she's imagining jonathan's pulse jumping at that, or the way his hand curls into steve's hair. she wonders what it's like for him, if this is something he's wanted for a while (if  _steve_ is something he's wanted for a while). "jesus," she hears him breath out, and agrees.

another orgasm shakes through her, and it's not too much but it's just enough and she pushes messily at steve's head. he doesn't look at her first, his eyes curiously tracking the line of jonathan's arm and she worries that this is the breaking point, as jonathan's hair falls out of steve hair, that this is what's going to break the cautious balance they've created. but steve just tilts his head into jonathan's hand for a moment before gently working her legs off his shoulders. the records make sense now. she wonders how she missed whatever's happening between the two of them (selfishly wonders if it happened because she removed herself as an option, and hates the thought as soon as it comes).

steve pushes himself up to sitting and she crawls loose-limbed into his lap. jonathan studies them for a minute, reflexively reaching out for his camera before remembering they aren't in his room. instead his fingers close around the forth joint of the night. she can see the moment he decides to light up anyway, grabbing the lighter from where its haphazardly laying on the sheets. steve reaches out for it once jonathan takes a hit, and jonathan's expression turns a little wry until steve messily swipes an arm across his mouth. it leaves little streaks of something slick down his arm, and maybe she should be embarrassed but she just sinks deeper into him. 

"think you can smoke all my weed and not even share with me," steve scoffs when jonathan finally passes the joint over.

"i didn't know deputies were supposed to have drugs," she mumbles, feels and hears them both laugh, and thinks they might actually be okay.

 

it's still dark out when she wakes up. the chill that's plagued her since barb first disappeared is finally gone, but there's still one last thing she needs to do. she slips out of bed, doing her best not to wake either of the boys and makes her way back to steve's bathroom. her bathing suit is still crumpled in the corner, blessedly dry and she works her way into it, ignoring the way the cool air makes goosebumps prickle over her skin. when she opens the door, the boys are there, looking rumpled and sleepy. 

she doesn't say anything, just makes her way downstairs, listening to hear if they follow. it takes a moment, but they do, and when she turns back they're both watching her cautiously, and steve has one of his family's ridiculously soft towels under one arm. 

"for what it's worth, i'm sorry too." his voice is quiet, but it echos around his big, almost perpetually lonely house. she want to protest, but he cuts her off before she can. "for trying to forget so much it hurt you. for not being a person you could talk to when i should have been. for trying to plan out a life without asking if you wanted that."

"i'm sorry too," jonathan is looking directly at her, although she can tell every part of him wants to look down and away. "for not reaching out, always expecting you too. for treating you like some kind of prize instead of a person. for not being your friend because i always wanted more."

she wasn't the only one with guilt, she realizes. maybe they weren't drowning in it, suffocated by it like her, but it was there. she wonders if there's more apologies owed; between the two of them, to the kids, to all the people the three of them pushed away due to this complicated mess between them all. wonders if being young and stupid and so painfully, dangerously,  _precariously_ in love that everything else goes to shit makes an acceptable excuse.

"go ahead. we'll be right here," jonathan says, and she believes him. she pulls open the patio door, and steps onto the cool concrete of the pool side. the spring sun is gone and the warmth has vanished with it, but she steels her resolve against the chill. she steps up to the edge of the pool, the shallow puddles of water that have splashed over the edge leaving it slick. 

she inhales once, feels the scratch of her throat irritated by the cold, exhales through her nose, inhales again, and throws herself into the water. she feels weightless for a moment, caught in the heated water and lets herself feel the weight of her hair and limbs pulling her down. it feels like a baptism in it own right, submerged in the depths and trapped by the weak moonlight that filters down through the water. then she kicks, once, twice, pulls herself back up.

 

she surfaces.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> well, there we go. ended up having an odd amount of religious allusion. happens. this is very different to other pieces i've written so comments are very welcome.


End file.
